Changing Lucius
by whitetiger91
Summary: The war is over and life is settling down again. Unfortunately, that means someone has to help re-integrate former Death-eater families back into society. Who is that someone? Hermione, of course.


**Changing Lucius**

 _ **A/N: This very weird fic was written as a gift for Claude Amelia Song as a prize for winning The Golden Snitch Scavenger Hunt competition for her school, Hogwarts. Well done!**_

 _ **I apologise if this doesn't seem very Lucius/Hermione, as I am afraid I can only ever imagine Lucius and Narcissa together. However, I did try my best, and despite the presence of telling rather than showing in some scenes (sorry!) and some SPaG (to be beta'd out later), I do hope you enjoy this! If you are wondering, too, why Hermione refers to Arthur and Molly as Mr and Mrs Weasley, yet does not use proper titles for the Malfoys, all I can say is that I went with what felt best. Hermione, according to canon, is set to have the Weasleys as her in-laws, and thus would probably be prone to using manners, yet the Malfoys are disgraced. *Shrugs* I really don't know what goes on in my brain sometimes...**_

* * *

"Alright, so it seems Hogwarts is well on its way to being rebuilt, I suppose we should move onto the next issue then. Kingsley, didn't you want to say something?" Mr Weasley smiled at Kingsley, who had stood up at the head of the table.

Just like everyone else, Hermione turned her eyes to the new Minister of Magic. She noticed that he seemed to be tired than usual, deep circles prominent under his eyes. She knew that it must be hard being the leader of Wizarding Britain, let alone straight after the war, and had a feeling that they were about to find out just how hard it was.

"Ahem, yes. As you all know—most of you know," Kingsley began, looking pointedly at Ron and George, who were currently kicking each other under the table, "we are trying to sort out what to do with the surviving Death Eater families involved in the war."

"What's to decide? I know what I'd like to do to them," George said, immediately stopping the game and glaring at the table.

Ginny, who sat beside him, gave him a quick pat on the shoulder as Kingsley cleared his throat.

"The problem is, I have had several meetings with my staff, and still, no one has volunteered to help out. Understandably, of course, but it's getting to the point where I've had several staff members threaten to resign if they're to be paired up with sorting out some of the families.

Therefore—and I really hate to do this, especially after Arthur and Molly have already been so kind to volunteer to take on the Notts and Goyles—I have to ask if anyone would like to volunteer to help re-integrate some of the others into society," Kingsley said, his dark eyes moving from one Order member to the other.

A moment of silence permeated the room after he finished speaking before:

"You did what?"

"No way!"

"Why would we want to help any of them?"

"You've got to be kidding! Have you forgotten what they have done to me? To all of us!"

"Merlin no!"

"Don't look at me, I've been put in danger one too many times."

Hermione sighed as the room interrupted with objections. Mundungus Fletcher was nodding along to the complaints, George was muttering to himself, his face redder than his hair, Ron had slammed his fist on the table and was now cradling his hand to his chest, and Percy was whispering furiously to an uncomfortable-looking Fleur.

Kingsley had to clear his throat several times, and though Hermione turned her attention to him, it wasn't until he slammed his own fist against the table that the comments subsided. Holding his hands up, he said, "Alright, alright, calm down! Whether you like it or not, this needs to be done."

"Ah, no, we could just ship them off to Azkaban, make them serve House elves… turn them into s—"

"Ron!" Molly scolded.

Ron scowled at his mother but didn't finish his sentence. Hermione thought—and almost hoped—that he was going to say 'slugs,' but somehow she didn't think so. It seemed that many of those around her agreed that the Death Eaters didn't deserve help. She had to admit that she didn't particularly think they did either; she had the scars upon her arm to prove it. However, she was a firm believer in second chances and prayed she would not be a fool for providing it.

Raising her hand, she spoke up. "Ahem, Kingsley? I'll do it, I'll help out."

"What?" Ron gasped, echoed by Harry who so far had remained silent.

All eyes turned to her and she suddenly felt a little embarrassed by all the attention. Still, she couldn't go back now. "I said, 'I'll do it.' I'll help sort out one of the families if you need me."

Kingsley blinked a few times before clearing his throat. "Are you sure, Hermione? I know your history with some of the families, and your blood—well, I know it will be quite difficult."

"Yeah, have you lost your bloody mind? What are you thinking?" Ron blurted out, looking very much as though his eyes were about to pop out of his head.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him before turning back to Kingsley and nodding. "Yes, I'm quite sure. It's about time I did my part and I want to ensure that whichever family it is has a chance to change. Besides—" Hermione added, hearing Ron scoff, "—I know quite a few spells, if I may say so, and am sure I can handle anything they throw at me."

Silence reigned again for another minute before Kingsley finally replied. "Well, alright then, that's settled. You'll begin tomorrow if that's alright?"

"Well said, Hermione, well said!" Mr Weasley chimed in, beaming at her.

Although Ron, Percy and George were all still sour, Mrs Weasley, Kingsley, Neville, Luna, Fleur, Bill, Charlie and a few others joined in, patting her on the back and nodding approvingly.

"Yes, thank you, Hermione, that's very generous," Charlie said.

"Good on yer, Hermione!" Hagrid added.

Hermione smiled at them all, squashing down any doubt she had. She was making the right decision… wasn't she?

* * *

"Right, well, I think I've covered everything. Hermione here will provide you with the rest of the information and get started," Kingsley said, pointing to her before fixing the Malfoys with a cold glare. "I need not remind you that she is to be treated with the utmost respect, and I will be in regular contact to ensure all is going well."

Kingsley then stood up, and together with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Hermione walked with him to the grand marble fireplace in the centre of the parlour. Before he disappeared, Kingsley gave her a quick hug.

"Are you sure you'll be alright," he asked, searching her eyes.

Hermione knew that she had not been able to hide her discomfort, no matter how hard she had tried. Every since she and Kingsley had arrived at Malfoy Manor earlier that morning, she had been overwhelmed with the memories of the year before. All she could think about was Bellatrix Lestrange, leering over her and cackling as she cursed her over and over again. She managed to grit her teeth and nod along as Kingsley spoke to the Malfoys—Draco, thankfully, not being present—but now she supposed it was not enough.

Giving Kingsley the best smile she could, she nodded. "I'll be fine, really. Please, don't worry," she said.

Kingsley surveyed her for a moment and nodded. "Alright, Floo or Owl if you need me." Then, giving the Malfoys one last warning look, he left.

Narcissa cleared her throat when Kingsley had disappeared in a storm of green fire. "Well, shall we discuss the other details?" she said.

Without waiting for a response, the Malfoy woman walked over to the settee and sat down. Reaching forward, she picked up the cup of tea she had left on the tray and took a sip. So far, Narcissa Malfoy had been nothing but polite to her, if not a little cold. When they had arrived, she had offered Hermione a cup of tea, not once commenting on the inconvenience of having to fetch it herself. The house elves in the Manor had all been given to other Wizarding families; Hermione would have preferred that they had been freed instead, but she supposed it was better than nothing.

Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, had not yet said a word to her. Limping over to the lounge now himself, his cane clicking against the marble floor, Hermione had to admit that she was pleasantly surprised. To be honest, she had thought that he would have kicked her out of his house as soon as she walked inside, not to mention the number of insults she expected he'd hurl at her. It might have had something to do with the way he looked, his brief stint in Azkaban for the last few months making his skin sallow and hair dull; he appeared tired, lost and broken.

Her heart almost reached out to him, hoping that he had begun to regret his actions, that he was changing.

"Alright, well, um, I suppose I shall start with the first step," Hermione said, taking a seat and addressing the couple.

Narcissa continued to sip her tea whilst Lucius leant over and buried his face in his knees. Well, at least they weren't objecting to her presence; so far so good.

"Um, yes, ok. I thought we'd start with—we will start with removing any dark objects that may be around here. I mean, because it is part of the condition of you living here."

Taking a peek at Narcissa's face, she was relieved to see the woman simply purse her lip and dip her head as an 'ok'. Lucius remained quiet.

Feeling a little more confident, she continued, "I suppose we should start with the upper floors and work our way down. I'll be visiting each day, from around eight in the morning until late, if that's alright? Ok, well, I'm ready to start if you are?"

Putting her cup down on the silver tray, Narcissa stood up. Smoothing down her already wrinkle-free robes, she held her arm out and indicated for Hermione to follow her. "Of course. I'll take you to the upper floor now."

Hermione gave her a small smile and followed Narcissa. Pausing for a moment at the double doors leading out of the room, she looked back at Lucius. The man sighed and stretched, slowly pushing himself up and standing. Straightening his back as best he could, he began to walk towards her.

Hermione moved out of his way so he had plenty of room with his cane. Smiling, she resisted the urge to congratulate him on changing his attitude—why, she hadn't even had to force him to come and help.

Stopping at the door, Lucius turned to her. "You know, Miss granger, I expected to lose my home. To lose all the money my family has accumulated, to have the Ministry interfering in my affairs. Perhaps to even remain in Azkaban until I could so arrange my leave."

Despite his relative fragility, Lucius' voice was smooth. It held no malice and Hermione gave him a small smile. Really, what had she been worried about?

Lucius shook his head and sighed. "But never did I think the Ministry would have the hide to send a Mudblood to boss us about. Do not get in my way," he said, shoving past her and, without glancing back, headed towards the small elevator in the hall.

Hermione's heart sank. Staying where she was for a moment, she watched him leave. Of course, his behaviour had been too good to be; she hated to think what he was going to be like the rest of her stay.

* * *

Not for the first time in her life, Hermione wished that she wasn't so stubborn. Perhaps if she had listened to Ron, who after the meeting two weeks before, insisted she'd be better off doing _anything_ other than helping a Death Eater family reintegrate with society, she'd have been happier. Perhaps if she hadn't been so stubborn and told him she'd be perfectly fine, she wouldn't have had to put up with constant insults, or constantly worry about whether or not she'd be cursed or poisoned every time she let her guard down.

Nevertheless, she was determined to stick her task out until it was completed. So far, with the help of Narcissa and supervision of Lucius, she had managed to rid the upper floor of all dark artefacts as well as half of the next floor down. At the moment, she was in the small guest library, pulling the vast majority of books off the shelf; each tome seemed to contain dark spells, curses and potions. The fact that the Malfoys had managed to keep such books despite previous Ministry raids amazed her.

"Not uncomfortable, are you, Mudblood?" Lucius said.

Hermione had just pulled out a tome entitled _de Manu Inferi_ and dropped the book to the floor with distaste. She knew that it roughly translated to 'The Power of Inferi' and couldn't help but shiver. Turning to Lucius, she fixed him with a glare.

"You know you're lucky that you weren't thrown in Azkaban a long time ago," she said.

Lucius simply smirked, turning back to his copy of The Daily Prophet. Hermione narrowed her eyes further, realising not for the first time just how like Draco Lucius was—if not more infuriating. The constant insults, smirks and loathing held within his silver eyes was driving her crazy, and she had to remind herself that it wouldn't be long before she could leave them for good.

Turning back to her task, she continued pulling out books and tossing them into her 'rubbish' pile. Later, she would take them all to the fireplace and burn them. Picking up one leather-bound book with the title _100 Ways to Burn without a Wand_ , she suppressed another shiver and moved to throw it to the pile.

"Not that one! It's a precious family heirloom," Lucius piped up, and when Hermione turned to face him, she saw that he was watching her with an icy stare.

"A book on how to burn your enemies? Yes, I'm sure it is," she replied, tossing it to the floor.

Lucius grabbed his cane and used it to help him stand. When he was balanced, he walked over to the books Using his cane to push over her neat pile, he then bent down and picked up the book she had thrown.

Brushing the non-existent dust off the cover, he sneered at her. "I'm surprised you'd treat a book with such distaste; Draco always said that you worshipped books."

Hermione ignored him and descended the ladder she had been using. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to Lucius and took the book from his hands. "I like books that hold knowledge on important things, not ones that instruct to kill."

Lucius continued sneering at her as she dumped the book back onto the pile.

"You would, wouldn't you Mudblood? People of you type never do know about real magic," he said, taking a step forward and picking up the book again.

Her cheeks grew hot and her breathing became tighter. Gritting her teeth, Hermione tried to push down her anger. How dare he insinuate that Muggleborns didn't know about magic, after all, that she had done to prove otherwise? She had constantly beat his son in all subjects, and if it wasn't immodest to say so, her quick thinking and knowledge had saved him and his family from the possibility of You-Know-Who's reign. Had he learnt nothing from the war?

Taking a deep breath, Hermione snatched the book back. "This is illegal."

"How dare you! That is a Malfoy heirloom, take your filthy Mudblood paws off it!" Lucius said, trying to take it back. His eyes flashed dangerously, and Hermione felt her resolve begin to fade away.

However, his constant use of 'Mudblood' was enough motivation for her to throw the book down. Taking out her wand, she set the book on fire, the irony of doing so not lost on her. The book set off black smoke and green smoke, hissing as the pages turned to ashes.

Hermione didn't have time to feel smug about it, for a sharp pain encased her arm. Yelping, she turned to see Lucius gripping onto it, his eyes boring into her.

"Not a good move," he said, leaning in towards her.

Hermione struggled to get out of his grip. "Let go of me!" Her legs began to tremble and her breathing became faster.

"Has no one taught you how to treat your superiors?" he spat, ignoring her protests.

His breath tickled her face, as did his hair as it fell loose from the clip that held it. Hermione tried to remain calm, refusing to let the man get the better of her. She would be alright; Lucius wouldn't do anything to land himself in Azkaban, no matter how confident he seemed. Showing him that he had the upper hand by struggling was only going to make him think he had won.

Closing her eyes, Hermione stopped striving for dominance. Holding still, she concentrated on her breathing—in, out, in, out. It seemed to be working, for slowly, she felt the grip on her arm loosen. She didn't stop breathing in and out until the trembling of her legs ceased, the refreshing smell of peppermint filling her nose.

Opening her eyes, she saw Lucius glaring at her, his face still inches apart from her own. It was funny, really; the angrier Lucius was, the less sick he looked. In fact, his anger seemed to highlight his cheekbones, and bring out ice-blue flecks in his eyes.

Shaking her head, Hermione mustered enough strength to push him back. Was that a trick of his, distracting her?

"What, is that how you lot fought? Breathing?" Lucius scoffed, confusion flashing across his face before being replaced with a sneer.

"I'll have to report this, Mr Malfoy," Hermione said, rubbing her arm.

"Of course you will," he replied. He took a step forward, placing himself back in her face. His eyes bored into hers, trying to intimidate her. Hermione found herself locking her eyes onto his, drawn back to the silver and blue. She couldn't seem to help it, the minty smell of his breath once again washing over her. It was clean, cool, inviting… Wait, what was wrong with her?

Before she could pull back, a knock on the door had Lucius reeling back.

"I didn't realise I was interrupting something," Narcissa said, wandering into the room.

In her hands, she held a silver tea tray laden with fine china cups, an intricately-carved teapot and a plate of pumpkin scones. Her blue eyes looked from Lucius to Hermione, and once more Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot.

She had lost her temper, and in front of the Malfoys of all people. Wasn't she better than that? Worse still, she had been caught in a compromising position, and although she hadn't been doing anything, Narcissa's look made her feel… dirty.

Taking a step back, Hermione turned to the mess of books and began to re-stack them.

She could feel Lucius' eyes still on her, boring into the back of her head. "Just reminding Miss Granger of the rules of this house," he said, and despite herself, Hermione shuddered again.

* * *

"He touched you? I'm going to kill him!"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! Watch your tongue," Mrs Weasley warned her son, but turned to Hermione and nodded. "Don't worry, love, we'll fix this."

Hermione blushed, all eyes once again turned to her. She had just finished retelling Kingsley and Mr Weasley about what had happened with Lucius—albeit without some of the details like his intoxicating smell that she wasn't even sure of herself.

Unfortunately, she hadn't realised that just about the whole Weasley clan, including Harry, had been listening in. She didn't know what was worse: the fact that they all knew what had happened, or that she had failed her task.

"He won't get away with this," Harry said and several of the Weasleys nodded.

Thankfully, Kingsley chose that moment to hold his hands up. "Alright, alright, I agree. I'm afraid I might need you to do one more shift if you are up to it—"

"Like hell!" Ron said, standing up.

Kingsley glared at him and continued, "—and I'll find someone else."

One day wouldn't hurt her, would it? No, it wouldn't; she'd just make sure to stay out of Lucius' way.

Giving Kingsley a small smile, she said, "Alright, one more day."

* * *

So far, her day had turned out to be pretty uneventful. Hermione had successfully managed to avoid both Lucius and Narcissa all morning, and as such, also managed to finish up the library and move on to the room next to it.

The room was smaller than most of the rooms Hermione had come across and held little furniture. In the centre of the room was a single French recliner with a stiff back that didn't look particularly comfortable. The back wall was dominated by a ceiling to floor bay window, the left wall held an empty buffet table and to the right was a glass cabinet filled with dusty trinkets.

Hermione had already taken to opening the heavy velvet curtains keeping the sun out, and after checking the back of the buffet table to ensure there was no secret back, now stood in front of the cabinet. A brass latch kept the cabinet locked, but before Hermione had stormed out the day before, she had found a small, antique brass key in one of the library's books.

Taking it out, she took a deep breath and tried the key in the lock. After a few turns that tested the key's strength and wiggling it around, Hermione finally heard the satisfying 'click'. Removing the key, her heart beating faster, she carefully lifted the latch and opened the cabinet.

Everything inside seemed oddly… normal. She had to admit that she was no professional curse-breaker, but she had expected to feel a wave of danger wash over her when the cabinet opened. Many of the other areas in the Manor had let off an aura of sorts, warning her of Dark magic. It was almost disappointing in a way that it hadn't.

Hermione shook her head. She was being silly; this wasn't supposed to be some exciting mission she was on. This was a chance for her to get rid of Dark objects and the less she came into contact with, the better.

When she had calmed her heart to a steadier rhythm, she got on with the job. The first object she pulled out resembled an hourglass of sorts, with a small inscription on the bottom. Peering at it, she realised that it looked very much like her Time Turner and that it was perhaps an earlier, bigger version of one. Looking over her shoulder to ensure that neither Malfoy was watching her, she quickly placed the object into her extendable bag. Even if it wasn't a Dark object, there was no telling what the Malfoys would do if they were able to go back in time.

The next few items proved to be of similar value. There was a pair of silver goblets embedded with emeralds ('no doubt once belonging to Salazar Slytherin,' Hermione thought), a small, cloudy sphere, a cracked Remembrall that seemed to turn black rather than red when held, a snapped blackwood wand, and an antique, porcelain doll. After running her wand over the objects and using the incantations Bill had taught her, Hermione had placed each object back onto their respective shelves.

She was down to the last object when she felt it. Reaching out to touch a seemingly plain wooden box, Hermione yelped. The box hadn't burnt her and had simply felt warm, but she had not been expecting it. It had made her heart race, and she took a moment to recover from her shock.

When she had, she turned back to it. What were the Malfoys doing with a warm box on a shelf? Why was it warm? And better yet, what was inside?

With her curiosity getting the better of her, Hermione took the box from the cabinet, re-locked it, and went to sit on the recliner. The box continued to feel warm under her touch, yet when she lifted the lid a crack to peer inside, she could see no glow to explain why.

Hermione sat there, mulling the box over. It didn't look dangerous, and nothing came up when she ran her wand over it to alert her to any danger. She flipped the box over and over in er hands, looking for any markings that might clue her in as to what it held. All she could see were a few Balinese-looking carvings etched into the sides, creating a pattern of what looked like suns and palm trees. Perhaps it was an old jewellery box, bought back as a souvenir of sorts? Or maybe it was a box for coins, spoons or cigars, as they used to use in the century before?

Checking to make sure that no one was watching her again, Hermione made up her mind. She would just take a peek inside, and if it there was nothing bad inside, she would put it back in the cabinet where it belonged.

Opening the lid, Hermione braced herself. Relief swept through her when nothing immediately happened. Peering inside, all she could see was black material, like a silk cloak. With a steady hand, she reached down to feel it.

Being stubborn was one of her faults. Curiosity, she soon found out, was another.

Before she even realised what was happening, the black material seemed to lift up at her touch. Unfolding its many layers, it spread out and jumped at her. Hermione didn't have time to squeal as it attached itself to her face, covering her mouth and preventing her from breathing.

Hermione's heart raced as she tried to pull it off her. The material seemed to glue itself onto her, sticking itself to any inch of her skin that was exposed. She couldn't see anything but blackness, and the more she struggled to breath, the more it tried to block out her air.

Further blackness was overcoming her senses, seeping into her mind. Each breath made her lungs feel like they were on fire and her body was growing numb. She tried to reach for her wand where it was tucked into her pocket, but the material pushed her arms to her body.

This was it; she was going to die. To suffocate in Malfoy Manor, of all places. And it was all because of her stupid curiosity and her stupid stubbornness in believing she could do the job in the first place.

She was beginning to feel dizzy, no longer aware if she was still breathing or not. The blackness seemed to grow and grow, and she stopped struggling. Closing her eyes, she wondered if Ron would say 'I told you so,' or if she would ever be able to smell that fresh, peppermint scent again…  
Peppermint scent?

Just as quickly as the darkness had come, so did the light. Gasping and somehow making hr lungs burn more, Hermione breathed in the fresh air that had replaced the material covering her mouth. Her eyes were assaulted with the bright sunlight and white ceiling of a room, and after blinking a few times to adjust to the change, she soon also saw a pair of silvery-blue eyes gazing down at her.

"Wha-What happened?" she asked, taking even longer to find her voice.

Her throat felt dry, and as she tried to push away the dizziness that still engulfed her, she sat up. Her limbs, too, felt stiff and sore, and although they were no longer numb, they tingled when she tried to stand.

A firm hand pushed her back down. Looking up, she saw Lucius watching her, his lips lifted in an amused smirk.

"Well, Miss Granger, I had always thought you were smarter than that. It seems curiosity had gotten the better of you and you opened a box that belongs to me."

"That was your box?" she asked, looking around for it. The room began to spin and she clutched her forehead. Glancing back at Lucius, she added, "But it was so… old."

Rather than berate her for that comment, Lucius' smirk widened. Hermione looked away, trailing her eyes down to his arm, which held his newly-repaired wand, to a small pile of ash by his feet. The sudden darkness came back to her, and slowly, she tried to connect the pieces. Whatever had been in that box had nearly killed her and Lucius was responsible for it. However, Lucius had also pulled it off her and saved her life—her, Hermione Granger, Order member and Muggleborn.

Perhaps there was hope in him after all.

Trying to not appear as pathetic as she suddenly felt, Hermione gave him a small smile. "I suppose I ought to thank you, then. I mean, for saving me," she said, feeling her traitorous cheeks burn.

If she wasn't so light-headed, she would've sworn that Lucius returned her smile. It was soon replaced with his trademark smirk and he gave her a curt nod. Without offering to help her up, he placed his wand back into his cane and limped over to the room's door.

Hermione closed her eyes, part of her already missing the peppermint scent she had been breathing in. It only served to make her cheeks burn more—more than they had the day before—and she quickly told herself that the smell was only helping her regain stability, that was all. When she left the Manor, she would soon forget it, and relish once again in Ron's unique combination of aftershave and lawn-mower clippings.

She jumped when Lucius cleared his throat, and turning to him, she realised he was still at the door watching her.

Pointing to the pile of ash, he said with a frown, "Yes, well, don't let it happen again. I had to destroy my Lethifold, and I have no idea when I will be able to obtain another. Don't let it happen again."

Turning on his heel, he then stalked off, leaving Hermione to roll her eyes. Maybe there was hope for him or maybe he would never change. She supposed if she was to ever find out, she would have to stick with her job a little longer.

Lifting herself up, she headed for the parlour, intent on speaking to Kingsley.


End file.
